


Sundays

by Thunder_Cakes



Series: On Your Left (SamSteve Bingo) [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, On Your Left - The SamSteve Bingo, Pre-Slash, Pre-Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson, platonic intimacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:20:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23321578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thunder_Cakes/pseuds/Thunder_Cakes
Summary: Growing up, Sundays were for church, food, cleaning and family. These days, church is... iffy, but Sam still cleans and cooks. And this family may look different, but it always finds its way in.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson
Series: On Your Left (SamSteve Bingo) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1543153
Comments: 12
Kudos: 31





	Sundays

**Author's Note:**

> a thousand thanks to Sadie798
> 
> Prompt: Natasha Romanoff

Sam wakes to the sound of his sound system booting up. He groans into his pillow and curses himself for setting it on a timer, but it’s Sunday and it’s enough that he doesn’t really go to church anymore. His mama would be livid if he skipped this too. Sam drags himself out of bed and into some sweatpants as _Just The Two Of Us_ begins to echo down the hallway. 

Most Sundays about now, he and Steve would be crashing through the front door after a run, ready for showers and breakfast before Steve heads out to see Peggy. But Steve is on a mission, so Sam slept in. He’d been up late watching flight tape, biting his nails and working on some calculations to improve his turns. He wasn’t sitting up waiting for an update from Steve or Maria, nope. He’s totally not worried at _all_. Steve can handle himself. And Clint is there to watch his back. They’ll be fine. Nothing to worry about. 

Sam shakes it off, flips on the coffee machine and breaks out the cleaning supplies.

An hour later, Sam is on his knees, scrubbing at the baseboards and absolutely hitting all those notes with Anita. As he stretches to dunk his sponge in the bucket nearby, he’s startled by a wolf whistle behind him. He glances over his shoulder to find Natasha sitting on his kitchen island, legs swinging and a glint in her eye. 

“Sweet Love indeed,” she leers. 

Sam laughs and hangs his head. “Good morning to you too, Nat.” 

He stands and stretches, still humming along. He holds a hand out for her, pulling her off the island when she takes it. She grins as she slides into his arms and the two of them dance around the kitchen. Sam continues to sing along and throws in a hip swivel or two to pull another laugh from his friend. Sam spins her a final time as the song fades into another classic. He reaches around her to grab a new sponge from the pack on the counter and hands it to her. 

“Oh, I have to earn my dances, do I?”

“Them's the rules,” he shrugs. “The steps need washing. There’s another bucket under the sink.” 

“Of course you wash your steps,” she snorts but moves toward the sink anyway. 

Sam smiles, turns the music up and shuffles back to his own bucket. 

Hours later the two of them are reclined on his couch, swapping stories while they wait for dinner to finish, Minnie Ripperton serenading in the background. The house smells faintly of Clorox and Comet, so the windows are thrown open despite the chill in the air. 

“So there I am trying to subdue this wailing First Lady who still thinks I’m here to assassinate her wife. I can’t remember the Portuguese word for decoy and Steve is still blowing up my phone, _begging_ me to save him from this blind date that _I_ didn’t even set him up on!” Natasha huffs, taking another swig of her beer. “He ignores every person I’ve ever suggested and listened to Clint _. Clint_ , Sam! And don’t get me wrong, Clint’s great on a mission and I trust him with my life, but let’s just say that his romantic intuition is beyond questionable. No one has any idea how he landed Laura, including him. So who knows what kind of rando he’s set Steve up with, and my Barranquenho is beyond rusty, so I just gave up, knocked her out, signaled for extraction and called Steve pretending to be his elderly neighbor with a cat stuck in a tree.”

Sam laughs, getting up to check on the chicken and dumplins and waving her forward when he deems it ready. “Oh, the number of times I had to play troubled brother, needy roommate or jealous lover to get Riley out of a bad date. Ri was smart but he had the worst taste, good God. Myself excluded, of course.”

Natasha raises a brow and eyes him as he ladles the soup into bowls. “Were you _not_ a jealous lover?”

“Sometimes a lover. Never really jealous.” Sam settles into one of the bar stools and slides a bowl in front of Nat. “Riley and I were… complicated, but we were never exclusive. He was my best friend before anything. The rest was just extra.”

Natasha hums, picking up her spoon. “That actually makes a lot of sense.”

Sam isn’t sure what that’s supposed to mean but brushes it off to dig in. They eat for a few minutes before Sam breaks the silence. “Is that why you haven’t tried to set me up with anyone? You think I’m still in love with Riley?” He’s squinting at her, grinning like he’s found the final piece of a puzzle.

Nat stares at him. “Uh, no?”

Sam huffs. “Oh come on, Nat. We all know meddling is your love language. You’ve been pushing Bruce and Thor together for months. I know you’ve given up on Steve, and for good reason, the boy is hopeless. But here I am, single as shit, and you’ve never even mentioned it. What gives?”

Natasha looks him up and down, incredulous and laughs out loud. “Oh God, you don’t know. You really have no idea.” 

“What?” Sam asks. Nat keeps laughing. “Natasha!!! What is it?” He chucks his balled-up napkin at her chest, unsurprised when she bats it away even with her eyes closed. Sam makes a big show of sighing as he gathers their dishes and dumps them in the sink.

“Some friend you are. I let you into my home--”

“I let myself in.”

“I danced with you--”

“You made me earn it!”

“I even made you dinner--”

“I helped!”

“And still you mock me! After all we’ve been through! I am _shocked,_ and _appalled,_ and _hurt!”_ Sam pushes on. Natasha snickers, lets him stew in his fake indignation for a bit. Next thing he knows, she’s sliding in next to him at the sink. 

“Sam. I didn’t just stop pestering Steve because he’s hopeless. That’s nothing new. I stopped because he met _you.”_

Sam opens his mouth, freezes and closes it again. Natasha laughs at him. Again. 

“Yeah, you go sit down and think on that for a while. I got the dishes.” She takes the sponge, nudges him back to his stool, and pours far too much dish soap into the basin. 

Sam sits back in his chair and takes a couple gulps of his beer. “You mean..”

Natasha snorts again but doesn’t turn from the sink. 

“So he… and I…. my best friend…OH… huh.”

“There it is.”

“So it's not because you’re secretly in love with me. _He_ is.”

Natasha whips around and chucks the dish sponge at him, catching the giddy smile on his face. “You’re a menace.” 

Just then the front door opens and Steve’s voice rings through the house. “Sam? I’m home!”

Sam shoots up in his seat, unashamed and eager. “In the kitchen!” They can hear Steve unloading his gear in the hall closet.

Nat grins and leans over to press a kiss to Sam’s forehead. She starts heading for the back door. “Thanks for dinner. Don’t think I’ll stay for the show.” 

Sam catches her arm as she walks past, “Thank you. Tell Clint I said hi.” 

She chucks him on the chin and then she’s gone. 

Steve wanders into the kitchen, brushing against Sam in greeting and mumbling about being tired and dinner smelling great. 

Sam smiles. He loves Sundays. 

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to my grandma, who made me wash our steps every week & every Black kid who woke up on a weekend to Anita, Lauryn, Kirk and/or Fred blaring and knew they had to go clean the bathroom. 
> 
> Check out all the other lovely SamSteve works over at SamSteveBingo on tumblr.


End file.
